I looked into her eyes, and she looked through mine.

At that moment I realized she was gone long before she left.
This was her ghost.

Haunting my house quietly asking to leave with every aching step that she never reacted to because she couldn't even remember pain.

I looked away from her and when I turned back she hadn't shifted she was a blank statue waiting to die.

I don’t ever forgive since it was always my fault in the first place.

I asked for it

I needed the punishment

I’m the criminal

No one wants me

Not even I want me

I don't enjoy the physical pain I cause myself
but it numbs the emotional pain

I do it out of fear
that if I were truly feel happy and okay
that one day my heart would break and there would be no fix
and that the rush of emotions would be overwhelming

but at least with the bruises and scratches I'm used to feeling something unpleasant
and heartbreak isn't as threatening I'm ready for it

I want the pain

You could say I was born to die because I really don't know where **** started it was just always there

Spring brought the flowers
Spring brought the beauty
Spring brought the ugly
Spring invited a young iris to the light
But the dandelions reminded her she was not beautiful
She wasn’t yellow
To short
Didn’t have enough pedals
Her birthmark needed covering

So she limited her water for thinner stems
She avoided the sun for a lighter complexion

So the dandelions thrived
They took her light her home
They sent her to the pavement to die

I pull myself up to the back window knowing she can't see me at night
I watch her change, her body is fat and ugly
her thighs are too big and her acne is scaring not just to her skin
but I still watch letting myself hate every inch of her body

I walk around the house to stalk the front window
she has her makeup on
I hate her a little less but I can hear her mother reminding me of her ugly
mum tells her to change she looks like a little boy and not how mum imagines her to be

I run to the left side of the house here she smiles on the phone with her friends
pretending the world doesn't exist
her laugh is still so ugly too loud and too girly for me
her friends don't mean to but they remind her of what she has to hide
what she is forced to be quite for

I dash to the right window
here I can barely see her through the blurry pain
she's crying an ugly cry
she holding the side of her head, the side her mum hit
she doesn't cry with sound her voice would only make her want to die more
she starves herself in hope that her empty stomach will replace her empty smile

I hate her
I hate her
I hate her

I hate myself

this morning I saw a girl
I walked up to her
I pinched her stomach then reminded her she was fat
her skin will never be beautiful
her thighs are too big
her hips are in the wrong place
her ******* are too small
her hair is such a terrible texture
her sweaty hands are too chubby and way to disgusting to ever use
I call her a *** why doesn't she just wear a dress
I made her cry
I took one last look before wiping my tear away turning from the mirror to the clothes I must put on for the day

Her converse mozie her through the cemetery that once wasn't sad
until she died
until I died
they bring her home
they bring her to the one she wishes she could hate
the one she wants to tell the truth
the truth that she doesn't even know
truth that may mean she's not a she
but again I don't know who I am
or who I love
whether it's them
or her
but right now
never him
.

The more I love them the more I hate myself
the more I want to die the closer we get
I want to be under their love and the ground

i've always known it but now i'll say it
you don't love me
you won't ever

i changed my life to be for you
you became yourself
but seeing you made me see reality

you need to be yourself in order to love
but you can never be finished changing with me around

you need you more than i want you

The love and hate that comes with abuse is hard to understand

there will be such happy moments shared with such passion and care
the moments I wish I could never leave

that time I laughed so hard seltzer shot out of my nose
burning what felt like my brains
how grateful I feel for her care in my education
the looks across the dinner table when my dad mispronounces a word


then there's the dark
the times my mother thought the best way to discipline me was with pain

the times she apologized with and embrace so warm but so fake because she was always just trying to make herself feel better for the bruises on my skin

then just like a record
hitting me again for struggling with an addiction that I've been fighting since I was six

She ignores my very clear and out loud depression
going as far as to blame it on the few things keeping me from swallowing those extra pills

keeping me closer to her lies
and further away from the happiness that came with ignorance

The same denial I know my father and sister are living
They don't experience my mother like I do

They've seen her rage fits but only intervene after it's too late
letting my head hit the wall
letting her rip off my socks and locking me outside during a snowstorm knowing **** well what she was doing was wrong

They themselves are too afraid of losing the good in my mother but forget that everytime she slips into the anger she takes away a piece of me

a piece of my trust
a piece of my individuality
my ability to speak up
a piece of my innocents


I wish I could leave
but I also understand that when I need her the most my mother will be right there by my side

She will pay for my first car
She will help with college tuition
She will listen when others hurt me
She will always give me a hug right as I'm about to break

She is always going to be here
her good and bad side will always be right here next to me

i wake up not wanting the food my stomach calls for
i go to lunch only to play will the fork and plate
dinner i nibble and talk just wanting to feel something real, like the hunger i have gotten so used to

as a child i would stuff my face with all the sweets in the world
loving the sugar coating of a cookie

now the bitter coffee down my throat is all i want
the heat of the cup on my sweaty hands
the aftertaste of my breath

the empty of my stomach being the only thing i truely feel

I wake up only to press snooze
the glaze over my eyes stopping me from feeling anything but empty
the aches in my back from over exhaustion
the words spat at me by the ones dear to me hit my ears but no longer my heart
I only feel around them
laughter with theirs
the fake tears at home pinning me down
taping my mouth shut
prying my eyes open

but little do they know I don't feel any of it

what does living life to the fullest really mean

does it mean that your life is satisfactory to your own extent

does it mean you're sad to die wanting more life for longer

or are you ready to die?

Walking through puddles isn’t as easy
as hopping over them
But sometimes you have to get your feet wet
So you can feel what’s real

And let it stay with you until it dries off

But puddles fade then come back in a cycle

Some Days you feel the water build up in your boots
Other days you step over water
Ignoring it,
avoiding

The pain wasn't from missing you
But forgetting

The tap of your feet down the stairs getting slower by the day
Your puppy eyes flickering with light

Although you were gone long ago
your body was there
Looking blankly right through me
Saying goodbye

Whispering for escape, you paced
Showing me you needed to go

I look at you and wonder, do you know I love you

I wonder if you might love me too

I wonder if when I laugh do you turn your head to see my smile

or do you turn your head to see her smile instead

Piles so high they touch the ceiling

Lies so ***** Pig-Pen scrunches his nose

Every time I try to clean up I only end up digging up things I should have kept buried

The things that hurt people that make the ones closest to me cry

Please don’t come near

I know I won't stop you

I want you to look into my eyes

I can’t help but turn you into stone

But I can't let you

I only let people see what I want them to

I only let me see what I want

If you come near I will give you my pandora’s box

You will open it and wish you could stop

You would see my piles you would see my secrets

Please don’t come near

Demode
Dodo

Dorothy doesn’t talk to me much about her feelings, she’s either happy as an elephant or angry like a needle being forced through skin. Dorothy doesn’t go by Dorothy. She was Dodo to everyone but her aunt who didn’t know who she was. Dorothy lived across the road in her sizable yellow house, with way too many windows, mum says. Her mother is a big business owner working in the man's world. Dodo’s father is her mother, we joke, always doing a woman's work. Dorothy has a little sister Iris. She looks like Dodo, but Iris doesn’t have the same bruises on her face as Dodo does.
Iris must be quiet.
Mum does not want me hanging out with Dorothy, she says, she doesn’t act like a lady. Dodo never crosses her legs, but why would she do that? She doesn’t even wear skirts. She doesn’t finish chewing before her words and spits of food fall out. Dorothy does what she wants. Iris doesn’t do that. Men remind Iris that she's a beautiful young lady as we walk down town. Dodo flips them off.
Iris is quiet
I don’t sit with Dorothy at school. She sits with the boys, and I’m not allowed to. Dorothy fits in with the boys. She has a voice of a lion roaring through the cafeteria. Iris sits with me instead but we don’t talk. We stay quiet. Dodo laughs too much, the girl with red ribbons in her hair says. Dodo is just asking for it, responds to the girl with blue barretts. She’s gonna get hurt if she doesn't shush her loudmouth red ribbons says. Dorothy doesn’t care what girls with ribbons think. Iris does.
Iris stays quiet
Sometimes I wish I was more like Dorothy. I could tell mum to mind her own business and to let me get my ears pierced. I’m old enough to face the needle. Dorothy likes her big hoops, but I would rather have studs like Iris.
Those are quiet
Dorothy is a bad liar. I know she didn’t fall and hit her head on the table. The yellow house with too many windows tells me Dorothy’s mum hurt her. No one does anything because we don’t know what to do with women who work in a man's world.
We all stay quiet.